The Ox tamer
IN a faraway northern county, in the placid, pastoral region,
Lives my farmer friend, the theme of my recitative, a famous Tamer of
Oxen:
There they bring him the three-year-olds and the four-year-olds, to
break them;
He will take the wildest steer in the world, and break him and tame
him;
He will go, fearless, without any whip, where the young bullock
chafes up and down the yard;
The bullock's head tosses restless high in the air, with raging eyes;
Yet, see you! how soon his rage subsides--how soon this Tamer tames
him:
See you! on the farms hereabout, a hundred oxen, young and old--and
he is the man who has tamed them;
They all know him--all are affectionate to him;
See you! some are such beautiful animals--so lofty looking! 10
Some are buff color'd--some mottled--one has a white line running
along his back--some are brindled,
Some have wide flaring horns (a good sign)--See you! the bright
hides;
See, the two with stars on their foreheads--See, the round bodies and
broad backs;
See, how straight and square they stand on their legs--See, what
fine, sagacious eyes;
See, how they watch their Tamer--they wish him near them--how they
turn to look after him!
What yearning expression! how uneasy they are when he moves away from
them:
--Now I marvel what it can be he appears to them, (books, politics,
poems depart--all else departs;)
I confess I envy only his fascination--my silent, illiterate friend,
Whom a hundred oxen love, there in his life on farms,
In the northern county far, in the placid, pastoral region.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Related quotes
Taking Big Bird away from our five year olds, lunch money away from our ten year olds, job training programs away from our fifteen year olds, and college loans away from our twenty year olds is a disgrace.
quote by John Murray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beast and Man in India
They killed a Child to please the Gods
In Earth's young penitence,
And I have bled in that Babe's stead
Because of innocence.
I bear the sins of sinful men
That have no sin of my own,
They drive me forth to Heaven's wrath
Unpastured and alone.
I am the meat of sacrifice,
The ransom of man's guilt,
For they give my life to the altar-knife
Wherever shrine is built.
The Goat.
Between the waving tufts of jungle-grass,
Up from the river as the twilight falls,
Across the dust-beclouded plain they pass
On to the village walls.
Great is the sword and mighty is the pen,
But over all the labouring ploughman's blade--
For on its oxen and its husbandmen
An Empire's strength is laid.
The Oxen.
The torn boughs trailing o'er the tusks aslant,
The saplings reeling in the path he trod,
Declare his might--our lord the Elephant,
Chief of the ways of God.
The black bulk heaving where the oxen pant,
The bowed head toiling where the guns careen,
Declare our might--our slave the Elephant,
And servant of the Queen.
The Elephant.
Dark children of the mere and marsh,
Wallow and waste and lea,
Outcaste they wait at the village gate
With folk of low degree.
Their pasture is in no man's land,
Their food the cattle's scorn;
Their rest is mire and their desire
The thicket and the thorn.
But woe to those that break their sleep,
And woe to those that dare
To rouse the herd-bull from his keep,
The wild boar from his lair!
Pigs and Buffaloes.
The beasts are very wise,
Their mouths are clean of lies,
They talk one to the other,
Bullock to bullock's brother
Resting after their labours,
Each in stall with his neighbours.
But man with goad and whip,
Breaks up their fellowship,
Shouts in their silky ears
Filling their soul with fears.
When he has ploughed the land,
He says: "They understand."
But the beasts in stall together,
Freed from the yoke and tether,
Say as the torn flanks smoke:
"Nay, 'twas the whip that spoke."
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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A Faithful Witness
To the firstborn of Yahseph,
Of all that is created;
To the secondborn of Yahseph,
Do set set your mind on Mount Zion;
For His name is His glory and,
Of the economic well-being.
Of the year of the rat,
Of the year of the dog,
Of the year of the cow,
Of the year of the bull,
Of the year of the sheep,
Of the year of the dragon,
Of the year of the snake,
Of the year of the pig,
Of the year of the goat,
Of the year of the lizard,
Of the year of the crocodile,
Of the year of the elephant,
Of the year of the scorpion,
Of the year of the turtle,
Of the year of the fish,
Of the year of the earth,
Of the year of the wind,
Of the year of the fire,
Of the year of the water,
And of the year of the bush!
Like the firstborns of slaves.
The hips of romance,
The faithful witness will not lie;
The same day,
The same night,
Of the love shared at where no oxen are;
And the crib was very clean.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Forever Young
In life there is only one certainty
and that is one day we will die,
it is only a question of
how and when that remains a mystery.
Scientist the whole world over
would love to find the solution
that could extend our lives,
letting us live longer
yet remain in good health.
As the population now
is living longer with each passing year.
Four hundred years ago
if you were forty you were old,
but now at forty we are still young.
In another four hundred years,
people who are one hundred
may be classed as being young.
The world can only wait and see.
4 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Only Love Can Break Your Heart
When you were young and on your own
How did it feel to be alone
I was always thinking of games that I was playing
Trying to make the best of my time
{chorus}
But only love can break your heart
Try to be sure right from the start
Yes only love can break your heart
What if your world should fall apart
I have a friend Ive never seen
He hides his head inside a dream
Someone should call him and see if he can come out
Try to lose the down that hes found
{chorus}
I have a friend Ive never seen
He hides his head inside a dream
Yes, only love can break your heart
Yes, only love can break your heart
song performed by by Everlast
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only Love Can Break Your Heart
When you were young and on your own
How did it feel to be alone?
I was always thinking of games that I was playing.
Trying to make the best of my time.
But only love can break your heart
Try to be sure right from the start
Yes only love can break your heart
What if your world should fall apart?
I have a friend Ive never seen
He hides his head inside a dream
Someone should call him and see if he can come out.
Try to lose the down that hes found.
But only love can break your heart
Try to be sure right from the start
Yes only love can break your heart
What if your world should fall apart?
I have a friend Ive never seen
He hides his head inside a dream
Yes, only love can break your heart
Yes, only love can break your heart
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Darlington County
Driving in to darlington county
Me and wayne on the fourth of july
Driving in to darlington county
Looking for some work on the county line
We drove down from new york city
Where the girls are pretty but they just want to know your name
Driving in to darlington city
Got a union connection with an uncle of waynes
We drove eight hundred miles without seeing a cop
We got rock and roll music blasting off the t-top singing
Sha la la la la la la la la, sha la la la la la la
Hey little girl standing on the corner
Todays your lucky day for sure all right
Me and my buddy were from new york city
We got two hundred dollars we want to rock all night
Girl youre looking at two big spenders
Why the world dont know what me and wayne might do
Our pas each own one of the world trade centers
For a kiss and a smile Ill give mine all to you
Come on baby take a seat on my fender
Its a long night and tell me what else were you gonna do
Just me and you we could
Sha la la...
Little girl sitting in the window
Aint seen my buddy in seven days
County man tells me the same thing
He dont work and he dont get paid
Little girl youre so young and pretty
Walk with me and you can have your way
And well leave this darlington city
For a ride down that dixie highway
Driving out of darlington county
My eyes seen the glory of the coming of the lord
Driving out of darlington county
Seen wayne handcuffed to the bumper of a state troopers ford
Sha la la...
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cattle in the rain
Although nothing is without end,
even the rain hammering down with hail,
it sometimes felt that way
with lightning bolts falling
down from the sky
like angry whip lashes
the young oxen milling around,
ready to stampede away
into the direction of the swamp
where the deadly tulips grow.
Your horse neighs frightened
drawing up her front hooves
with every thunder bolt lashing down
and you let her gallop at the edge of the cattle
to round them into the shelter of the camp,
cutting off the leading troublemakers
and the hail coming down in force
feels like buckshot from the old shotgun
and one ox, gigantic in size snorts
starts running on
crashing through small trees
of which the stems whiplash past your head
and when in anger you reach it,
it turns back and starts to walk back
into the direction of the camp
looking at you
with big eyes as tame as that of a cow.
[Reference: Cattle in the rain by Musaemura Zimunya.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pro Life Pro Choice
So a girl carrying a deformed baby in her that is her father's is a murderer because she has an abortion? When sperm hits egg it is process and biochemistry. When a person jumps off a hundred foot bridge they probably will die because of gravity. I don't believe God gets 10 year old girls pregnant by their fathers or rapists. There were over 32,000 rapes last year in the USA.
Can we be pro life with our own life yet not impose our morality upon everyone else?
What if a 12 year old is pregnant by her 15 year old boyfriend and she is in the midst of a break down and her parents decide she shouldn't have the baby; that she is too emotionally and mentally unstable? Her parents went through a divorce and she is doing bad in school and she is cutting herself. Happens all the time. Do we call her a murderer? Do we condemn her parents?
The youngest girl recorded to have given birth is 5 years old and 7 months......there are many many 8 and 9 year olds known to have given birth.
Ideals in a imperfect world enforced by a government with its power and apparatus can be a page out of Kafka, a nightmare of oppression.
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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What Are The Wages Of Labour Journey
My so-called friends you dawdle
Having in hands,
Khaiwat, Khasra, Latha and Gardawari,
Your Jareeb is not long enough to measure,
The length two farms which my father
Tilled walking and walking behind yokes of oxen,
Placing his hands on the handle of plough,
The same hands harder than stones.
Walking and walking behind yokes of oxen,
He measured more than half of the world,
But you would not sense gashing pain
Of his lacerated heels.
My mother too while bringing on the farms,
Lasi and bread, and carrying bundles of grass,
Got her feet worn out, got her neck twisted.
While measuring, totaling these two farms
The Jareeb of my and your breath would finish
But the labour-journey of my father
In ten vegas of land would not cease.
Khaiwat: A unit of land comprising on khatoonies, Khasras, smaller units.
Latha: A map of lands prepared by Revenue Department on white cotton cloth.
Jareeb: a measurement comprising on ten pieces of chains each is called Karam, and one Karam is equal to 5.5 feet.
Gardawari: Official record of ownership of lands prepared after four years.
Vega: A piece of land measuring four kanal.
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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And I Thank You...
A young soldier takes a deep breath before battle,
Now millions of miles away from the golden plains and the cattle,
Fearing for his life, and another battle loss,
He closes his eyes, and grips tight on his golden cross.
The sergeant yells, and he gets into line,
The troop marches to the battlefield, early morning, about nine,
With sweat running down their faces, and dirt in their hair,
The men look to the sky, and say a silent prayer.
A grenade explodes and the troop scurries on the run,
The young soldier hides in a foxhole, griping onto his gun,
He pops up, but too much smoke he can’t see,
Squinting as hard as he can to find the enemy.
The day is gone, and the young soldier still holds his gun to his shoulder,
Bruised and battered, he feels the night become colder,
As he looks to his left, he wants to break down and cry,
Because he had to watch his best friend get shot, and then he died.
The stale scent of tragedy in the air hovers,
Because this young soldier lost many of his band of brothers,
And now the enemy has fallen back with a retreat,
Because they now know that they have been beat.
You fought for the red, white, and blue,
And for this I greatly thank you,
You fought to allow me to speak my mind freely behind this ballpoint pen,
So once again I thank you, my hero, my dear veteran.
poem by Ryan McNicholas
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Pilot Cove
'Young friend,' 'e sez . . . Young friend! Well, spare me days!
Yeh'd think I wus 'is own white 'eaded boy
The queer ole finger, wiv 'is gentle ways.
'Young friend,' 'e sez, 'I wish't yeh bofe great joy.'
The langwidge that them parson blokes imploy
Fair tickles me. The way 'e bleats an' brays!
'Young friend,' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez . . . Yes, my Doreen an' me
We're gettin' hitched, all straight an' on the square.
Fer when I torks about the registry
O 'oly wars! yeh should 'a' seen 'er stare;
'The registry?' she sez, 'I wouldn't dare!
I know a clergyman we'll go an' see . . .
'Young friend,' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez. An' then 'e chats me straight;
An' spouts o' death, an' 'ell, an' mortal sins.
'You reckernize this step you contemplate
Is grave?' 'e sez. An' I jist stan's an' grins;
Fer when I chips, Doreen she kicks me shins.
'Yes, very 'oly is the married state,
Young friend,' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez. An' then 'e mags a lot
Of jooty an' the spitichuil life,
To which I didn't tumble worth a jot.
'I'm sure,' 'e sez, 'as you will 'ave a wife
'Oo'll 'ave a noble infl'ince on yer life.
'Oo is 'er gardjin?' I sez, ''Er ole pot'
'Young friend!' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez. 'Oh fix yet thorts on 'igh!
Orl marridges is registered up there!
An' you must cleave unto 'er till yeh die,
An' cherish 'er wiv love an' tender care.
E'en in the days when she's no longer fair
She's still yet wife,' 'e sez. 'Ribuck,' sez I.
'Young friend!' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez - I sez, 'Now, listen 'ere:
This isn't one o' them impetchus leaps.
There ain't no tart a 'undreth part so dear
As 'er. She 'as me 'eart and' soul fer keeps!'
An' then Doreen, she turns away an' weeps;
But 'e jist smiles. 'Yer deep in love, 'tis clear
Young friend,' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez - an tears wus in 'is eyes
'Strive 'ard. Fer many, many years I've lived.
An' I kin but recall wiv tears an' sighs
The lives of some I've seen in marridge gived.'
'My Gawd!' I sez. 'I'll strive as no bloke strivved!
Fer don't I know I've copped a bonzer prize?'
'Young friend,' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez. An' in 'is gentle way,
'E pats the shoulder of my dear Doreen.
'I've solem'ized grand weddin's in me day,
But 'ere's the sweetest little maid I've seen.
She's fit fer any man, to be 'is queen;
An' you're more forchinit than you kin say,
Young friend,' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez . . . A queer ole pilot bloke,
Wiv silver 'air. The gentle way 'e dealt
Wiv 'er, the soft an' kindly way 'e spoke
To my Doreen, 'ud make a starcher melt.
I tell yer, square an' all, I sorter felt
A kiddish kind o' feelin' like I'd choke . . .
'Young friend,' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez, 'you two on Choosday week,
Is to be joined in very 'oly bonds.
To break them vows I 'opes yeh'll never seek;
Fer I could curse them 'usbands 'oo absconds!'
'I'll love 'er till I snuff it,' I responds.
'Ah, that's the way I likes to 'ear yeh speak,
Young friend,' 'e sez.
'Young friend,' 'e sez - and then me 'and 'e grips
'I wish't yeh luck, you an' yer lady fair.
Sweet maid.' An' sof'ly wiv 'is finger-tips,
'E takes and' strokes me cliner's shinin' 'air.
An' when I seen 'er standin' blushin' there,
I turns an' kisses 'er, fair on the lips.
'Young friend!' 'e sez.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Northern Muse
And she moves on the solid ground
And she shines light all around
And she moves on the solid ground
In the county down
And she moves on the solid earth
And she knows what her wisdom is worth
And she moves on the solid ground
In the county down
She lifts me up
Fill my cup
When i'm tired and weary, lord
And she keeps the flame
And she give me hope
[to] carry on
If you see her
Say, "hello"
Well she's someone that i surely know
When i was young she made me roam from my home
In the county down
She lifts me up
She fill my cup
When i'm tired and weary, lord
And she keeps the flame
And she give me hope
[to] carry on
If you see her
Say, "hello"
Well she's someone that i'd surely know
When i was young she made me run from my home
In the county down
And she moves on the solid ground
And she moves in the county down
In the county down
When she moves...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Bullock Dray
Oh! the shearing is all over,
And the wool is coming down,
And I mean to get a wife, boys,
When I go up to town.
Everything that has two legs
Represents itself in view,
From the little paddy-melon
To the bucking kangaroo.
So it's roll up your blankets,
And let's make a push,
I'll take you up the country,
And show you the bush.
I'll be bound you won't get
Such a chance another day,
So come and take possession
Of my old bullock dray.
Now, I've saved up a good cheque,
I mean to buy a team,
And when I get a wife, boys,
I'll be all-serene
For calling at the depôt.
They say there's no delay
To get an off-sider
For the old bullock dray.
Oh! we'll live like fighting cocks,
For good living, I'm your man.
We'll have leather jacks, johnny cakes,
And fritters in the pan;
Or if you'd like some fish
I'll catch you some soon,
For we'll bob for barramundies
Round the banks of a lagoon.
Oh! yes, of beef and damper
I take care we have enough,
And we'll boil in the bucket
Such a whopper of a duff,
And our friends will dance
To the honour of the day,
To the music of the bells,
Around the old bullock dray.
Oh! we'll have plenty girls,
We must mind that.
There'll be flash little Maggie,
And buckjumping Pat.
There'll be Stringy bark Joe,
And Green-hide Mike.
Yes, my Colonials, just
As many as you like.
Now we'll stop all immigration,
We won't need it any more;
We'll be having young natives,
Twins by the score.
And I wonder what the devil
Jack Robertson would say
If he saw us promenading
Round the old bullock dray.
Oh! it's time I had an answer,
If there's one to be had,
I wouldn't treat that steer
In the body half as bad;
But he takes as much notice
Of me, upon my soul,
As that old blue stag
Off-side in the pole.
Oh! to tell a lot of lies,
You know, it is a sin,
But I'll go up country
And marry a black gin.
Oh! "Baal gammon white feller,"
This is what she'll say,
"Budgery you
And your old bullock dray."
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Poet Care
CARE is a Poet fine:
He works in shade or shine,
And leaves—you know his sign!—
No day without its line.
He writes with iron pen
Upon the brows of men;
Faint lines at first, and then
He scores them in again.
His touch at first is light
On Beauty’s brow of white;
The old churl loves to write
On foreheads broad and bright.
A line for young love crossed,
A line for fair hopes lost
In an untimely frost—
A line that means Thou Wast.
Then deeper script appears:
The furrows of dim fears,
The traces of old tears,
The tide-marks of the years.
To him with sight made strong
By suffering and wrong,
The brows of all the throng
Are eloquent with song.
poem by Victor James Daley
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One Hundred Punks
They customised their gear and synchronised
(They)flame out in the streets with flame in their eyes
Guerilla operator ain't heard of cool
Check out any wall - one hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
A hundred punks run with London town
Down Wardour Street to the Soho Sound
Don't sleep all week only when they fall down
A hundred Rumble boys and Tumble girls
Protected by steel in a private world
Tomorrow's famous faces advertise today
And the studs on their back say
One hundred punks rule
A hundred punks run the loaded gun
They look so sharp they look like one
If you ain't got the look you'll never be one
A hundred punks run with total suss
A hundred good mates you know you can trust
There's never no bother and there's no fuss
Check out any wall - one hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
And Jimmy's no.101 knows one day he'll be One
Watch him - watch him Go!
A hundred punks run the leather army
I know whose by my side not at home with TV
Even when I'm down I hear them sing for me
Check out any wall - One hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
Check out any wall - One hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
Check out - One hundred punks rule O.K.
song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Strange Question Indeed
A young man under thirty his memory seemed gone
I thought for a moment he's having me on
When he asked me what year 'twas he did not even smile
Then methought he does not seek his amusement through guile.
I told him 06 yet it puzzles me so
That the year he is living in he does not know
Can people in their mid twenties suffer from the onset of alzheimers disease
That at such a young age his memory is starting to freeze?
But then I thought with him there could be something else wrong
Maybe last night he did overpuff on his bong
'Tis not good for the memory this stuff wizzy weed
Either way the young man of help did seem in need.
He had not been drinking as he walked a straight line
And health wise he is one who looks rather fine
And though to have a poor memory is never a sin
He seems too young not to know the year he is living in.
He looked in his mid twenties or a year or two more
And one I had never lain eyes on before
From one of his age a strange question indeed
The affects of alzheimers or too much wizzy weed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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One hair of a woman can draw more than a hundred pair of oxen.
quote by James Howell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Hundred Punks
They customised their gear and synchronised
(they)flame out in the streets with flame in their eyes
Guerilla operator aint heard of cool
Check out any wall - one hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
A hundred punks run with london town
Down wardour street to the soho sound
Dont sleep all week only when they fall down
A hundred rumble boys and tumble girls
Protected by steel in a private world
Tomorrows famous faces advertise today
And the studs on their back say
One hundred punks rule
A hundred punks run the loaded gun
They look so sharp they look like one
If you aint got the look youll never be one
A hundred punks run with total suss
A hundred good mates you know you can trust
Theres never no bother and theres no fuss
Check out any wall - one hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
And jimmys no.101 knows one day hell be one
Watch him - watch him go!
A hundred punks run the leather army
I know whose by my side not at home with tv
Even when Im down I hear them sing for me
Check out any wall - one hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
Check out any wall - one hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
Check out - one hundred punks rule o.k.
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Men And Monsters
How does passion ignite the days
Of the year, and flowers of the rain?
My offering to some is a fellowship,
Into many days of the year, that are rays.
They'd shine for you like capsized boats,
Hollering like monkeys in quicksand.
The day strongly empowers the night
With verses of young damage.
What monster sheriffs this county?
I see verses and symbols of a long time
Going into my heart as one sign.
One makes a man seem in trouble
When one observes him from faraway.
They squirm in from under the clouds,
Opening their messages so enjoyed by
The heart.
poem by Naveed Akram
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